This Monstrocity
by Spawn Guy
Summary: A Watchtower tale. It's just one oreo. Sometimes, one is all it takes.
1. Just a poor boy

**This monstrosity **

This happy little gem takes place in any part of JLU continuity before Jonn left the team for whatever happened in China. Now…we know he was becoming more isolationist throughout the seasons but…ever wonder if something made him that way? Think of the watchtower as a giant dorm room and those responsible as roommates. Chances are you know the kind I'm talking about. DC, Time Warner, not mine, blah blah blah…

Guy

It was all Vigilante's fault .

The official report doesn't say that. But every one else does.

Vigilante, for his part, uncharacteristically ,yet firmly, blames it on Shining Knight. Who ,still possessing a morality and mentality that served him well in the bygone days of Arthur, can not bring himself to blame it on Vixen. Or rather would, if she knew she had any involvement, but again the morality swings into play like some Basil Faulty themed Tarzan. That and a faulty memory. Also, it wasn't Vixen's fault that Poison Ivy interrupted her lunch break by breaking Killer Frost, Giganta, Volcana and Livewire out of a temporary holding facility in Kansas.

Both these facts were the first in a series to collide ala iceberg and Titanic, because if Poison Ivy had held off on that break out thing, Vixen would have happily enjoyed a fat free Waldorf salad (Don't ask how the fat free thing works, just don't.) and wouldn't have wandered into the recreation area when she did. If Shining Knight hadn't wandered in when _he _did, he would have either missed her or, if she hadn't missed her lunch break which resulted in her being there, not encountered her at all. This is where the Arthurian morality came in, prompting the good Sir Justin to offer the anthromorpher sustenance in the form of one of the bags of pork rinds he was intent on brining to good old weekly movie night, hosted by that son of a gun Vigilante.

Thus, the weekly movie goers were short one bag of pork rinds.

The avalanche was short one snowflake.

Green Arrow, or possibly Flash since he was faster _and _Black Canary was uncharacteristically curled in the emerald archer's lap (alcohol was also present at this event, which sometimes explains other cases of this nature aboard the watchtower), got there before Vigilante did. Vigilante maintains excellent shape, as is universal among any band of super heroes, but it was done through healthy eating which involved laying off the delicacies he truly loved living off. The kind he saved for movie night. He practically starved himself for these needs. Not that that stopped him consuming his fare share of peanuts, hot dogs, pizza, candy and beer, but he was of the mindset that never feels satisfied until they have had that delicacy they have gone through so much of that kind of mentality for .

Pork rinds were one such delicacy.

Vigilante did not feel satisfied. He wasn't in any danger of starvation, but his stomach evolved a telepathic brain of it's own to mentally complain with.

Maybe he was a little drunk to, who was to say.

All this really came to a head when he wondered up onto the bridge, not for any real reason other than this was the watcher tower version of walking through the rain to jazz music.

It was there that he saw the bag of Oreos. J'onn J'onzz bag of Oreos. Not that he knew that at the time, but a lot of things people didn't know about came together at this point.

It took him a few minutes to finish what was left in the bag, and shuffle back out into the numerous corridors of the watchtower, cursing the League's supply delivery service for being as slow as it was. The snow flake didn't really fall until J'onn returned from assisting Zattana fix the TV set in her quarters ("There are some things magic was created to do Jonn. Turn Dr Polaris into the local precante is one. Screw with Japanese electronics with out the manual ? I might as well make the noose myself.").

Thanks to Vigilante, most of the league agree, the avalanche slapped them in the face. Vigilante continues to argue ,to anyone who will listen (there are few), that Shining Knight is responsible. Shining Knight's moral code dictates he accept the blame, and perhaps the fact no one really believes Vigilante helps a little. It also means he feels slightly guilty, but his memory means he doesn't remember what for.

Philosophically speaking, the entire affair was Clint Eastwood's fault.

"Come on J'onn!"

Superman knocked for the third time, using a hand that could reduce mountain to rubble. Kansas bred politeness and experienced muscle control kept the door upright. Frustration was making the former factor less relevant.

Diana raised an eyebrow, hands on hips.

"He's been in there how long?"

"Ten days." Clark said mechanically. He ran a hand through ebony hair.

"And nothing? No sound? No movement? Nothing?"

"Not a telepathic peep Diana."

The Amazon folded her arms, locking her clear sky eyes on the kryptonian's baby blue.

"And what about you? You've been up here all this time?"

Clark shrugged, cape shifting along with his well toned shoulders. He wasn't looking at her.

"Some one had to watch him."

"With the door closed?" Diana asked. There was an anticipated parental tone in her voice. The kind reserved for when homework was left undone. Or Wally hadn't put the seat down. "Vigils are Bruce's thing. Not yours."

Clark winced. He'd had to fax in his last reports, and Lois's birthday was coming up. Jonn owed him three Planet sick days. The Batman comment was what ultimately made him reply the way he did.

" It's called X ray vision Diana."

_Oops. _

The Amazon's eyebrows went high in horror, eyes suddenly shocked pools of surprise.

For a fraction of a second, one of the most powerful beings on earth thought he'd escaped a fate worse than a fate worse than death for something a lot more survivable.

"You've actually _spied_ on him? You've seen what he's been _doing_ all this time?"

He couldn't have been more wrong if he'd been talking Bizzaro.

"No! Diana!"

"Why didn't you tell me? Fire and Ice have been on my back to find out!"

"_Diana!_"

"Wait, what?" She narrowed her eyes, one raven eyebrow rising like a suspicious sun. "So you've been here…but you haven't looked in on him? You haven't looked through the door ,much less opened it? For ten days?"

"No! Diana…he could be doing…you know…_anything_ in there! It wouldn't be right! It…"

"For ten days…," Diana continued, in tones like an iron bucket full of water to the face ",…you have sat outside this door…and you still have no idea what he's been doing?"

Something in her tone (probably the bucket) snagged Clark's attention. The investigative journalist sniffed the air, like late man sniffing Tyrannosaurs droppings.

"The member with the most likely means to leave that room unnoticed, other than Bruce, has looked himself in his quarters, which is out of character enough, for ten days…"

Shape shifting. Invisibility. _Phasing. _

Clark rapped on the door again. "J'onn?"

Nothing. Not that anything had been expected.

"J'onn?" Clark repeated, a little sing song hint of panic weaving through his words.

His free hand twitched slightly, the knocking becoming more heated. If he kept it up he'd ware a dent into the door after a good long hour. Amazonian patience didn't last that long.

"Oh, Hera give me strenght…" Royal red and white streaked boots marched determinably to the door, a slender hand easily moving the kryptonian aside and running a palm over the Wayne enterprises sensor array bolted to the wall. "J'onn?"

_/Private quarters options set to maximum privacy. Access denied. Have a nice day./_

Wonder woman's eyes narrowed like a tiger with a environmentalist shouting prayers in the name of mother nature at it at one in the morning. Clark barley had time to begin protesting.

The reinforced steel might as well have been wet cardboard. Grunting, Diana heaved the remains out of the frame, leaning it against the side of one of the sparse walls.

"Cool." Star girl remarked as she continued towards the bridge.

Clark's first thought as he followed the marching Amazon into the room was, _This is where he lives?_ Bed. Table. Lamp. Chair. Desk. Swivel chair. Still emanating that unwrapped from plastic shine and, Clark could swear, smell. In the sudden light from outside, the gun metal coloured walls took on an underground light. Like they busted into the White Rabbits basement looking for Alice's remains. Clark stiffened like a flash freeze victim, wondering where the heck that notion had come form. Baby blue eyes took in the room.

"Nothing." Diana whispered.

She was of course referring to the Marshan's absence, but it summed the room up effortlessly. No books, no food, no light, no TV, no newspapers…nothing. At least The Question had those bulletin boards and case files, perhaps even ,as rumour suggested, a stuffed raven tangled in a dream catcher. Something about the ghost of Lewis Carol not interfering with an investigation. Or possibly Albert Einstein. Clark hadn't been paying attention, and the rooms sparseness was numbing concentration.

A cough. He realised Diana was looking at him. Very expectantly. Dreaded leadership. _Bounce a couple hundred bullets off your chest and oh, suddenly, your in charge of every dang superhero on the planet. _

Although the complementary muffins that the founders were receiving at council meetings were a bonus. He just wished Bruce would stop ordering brand and Wally would stop swiping all the blueberry.

Diana coughed again. And shifted her eyes in a particular direction.

"What?" Clark waved a hand at the room as if trying to remove the smell of the restroom on deck level 5, the one that no one went near because of broken urinal. "There's nothing in here to look for."

"And you call yourself a journalist."

_Ouch. _

She had a point though. And she knew it. Perfect lips twitched, Clark resisting a wince at the realisation that she wasn't done yet.

"I would have figured you'd at least check the closet."

"Wait…we have closets?"

Two sets of blue eyes stared at each other for a few minutes. Outside, Red Tornado complimented Power Girl's makeup.

"You didn't know we had closets?"

There was an unstoppable tingle in his cheeks as Clark shrugged.

"I…don't really use my…overnight quarters up here…that…often…"

"After you bugged the technicians to install that coffee machine?" Diana was mildly incredulous, putting the already uncomfortable man of steel on the defensive.

"I paid for it! What's wrong with wanting a cup of honest Columbian coffee? You go to the commissary every day! You_ know_ what the coffee there tastes like!"

"I know Clark. Why do you think I accept whenever Wally…" She stopped dead. Clark's blushing face became surprise. Then confusion. Realisation. Stone. Steel.

"Whenever Wally what?"

Amazonian bracelets rubbed gently against one another as Diana shifted uncomfortably, hands clutching each other in universal _oops_.

"You said yourself your not up here…there…a lot…and we uh…we both know what commissary beverages taste like, right? Chemco couldn't drink it right?" Guilty smile on perfect lips.

"Uh huh. What does the fastest man alive do with _my…" _The word could have broken through steel "…coffee machine?"

"Its just a sip!" Wally probably couldn't have said it faster. Indignant hands were suddenly on hips. "And your never _in _there! You brought the damn thing and you don't use it!"

Backing up, Clark realised control had slipped through his hands like a grease covered Plastic Man. He also realised that the very idea should have caused some kind of feeling in his hands that would have meant use of the sinks, even in the restroom on level 5. But fear, could numb stuff like that. "Diana…"

"I'll bet it was a bargain wasn't it? One of those things they sell on TV alongside peppy little pop princesses just out of high school? Thought you'd save a couple of bucks? Perhaps have a little left over this week ? Finally actually take Lois somewhere _nice_ for once?"

"Oh, I'm _sorry_ princess, we can't all get invites to banquets hosted by uptight little Frenchmen in the name of some charity no body ever heard of because they were too busy keeping their heads down and trying to make an honest buck while _some_ people were partying like tomorrow was wrapped around their dainty little finger!"

Clark went pale. Had he just said that? Had he just called her…princess? Her eyes flared, like pre collapse Red Giants.

_Eep…_

"Well Super duper man, if you weren't invited how come every time I go to one of these parties that are _so _beneath you, there's a couple of hundred of your colleagues crawling into the place like slimy little maggots with glasses and bad hair jell over a doughnut?"

"Oh comparing the media to insects! How original! Yes, I can see how brining the world the truth simply pales in comparison to carrying all that breeding and royalty on your poor aristocratic shoulders!" A finger was jabbed towards hair, Clark barley skipping a beat

"And for your information princess, this is honest to god styling, not something a rainforest had to die for so those big black bangs of yours could retain that peppy little shine! "

"Oh so how and mighty! But hey, maybe you deserve it! All that effort into pushing all those lives out into the open so every one else can be in on the joke, must be a pretty neat way of bringing in a pay check! Got anyone good lately? What about me, huh? Told most of North America what I've told you at the water cooler Mr mild mannered?"

Iron realisation finally slammed down , the next remark bitten down hard enough to draw blood. Not that Clark actually bit anything, but it felt as if it were taking that much effort to end the argument.

"Diana…you know I'd never do that. How could I?"

Words became wall, stopping the return fire in mid build up. Constant unnoticed electronic white sound brushed through the sudden silence, the purring of a subdued jungle cat. As if made of lead, Diana's face became a smile, threatened by tears.

"Of course. Boy scout right?"

The tingle returned. Unstoppable this time.

A shared nervous cough, eye contact broken. Sparseness flooded in, the room fading back into their conciseness with uncomforting suddenness.

"He's not here." Diana said eventually, more for the sake of ending the silence than anything else. Or maybe forgetting the tension. Or maybe just getting out of the room.

Which was very understandable. An unnoticed smell clung to everything, faint and powdery, not unpleasant, but with the uncomfortable lighting from out in the corridor casting pale shadows the way it was, it put Clark in mind of a baby changing room next to a men's room. Hard to imagine this was where J'onn lived. But it suited what personality was shown in an unnerving way.

_Seriously J'onn, at least get some dirty magazines in here or something. Maybe even a lamp. _

"Clark?"

Her voice sounded like it was being transmitted through water. In his ears. With a blanket over his head. He broke his repeated sweep of the room, focusing on her.

"Right. Let's check the bridge."

"Huh?"

"The bridge. Maybe he got over…whatever and checked himself out to catch up or whatever it is people do on the bridge."

"Oh. Been. Not there."

A weary sigh was heaved, blue shoulders shrugging in defeat.

"Well…we'll look again. I mean, where'd he go? Jump City?"

The Amazon's smile went to horror mask faster than a lightning flash.

"He…he wouldn't would he?"

An invincible stomach was suddenly as unstable as a certain long dead planets core, or a certain speedster after eating a certain archer's chilli.

"He _wouldn't_! I mean…what would he do to them?"

"What do you mean what he'd do to them? Great Hera…what are they doing to him! Beast Boy alone…"

They didn't register Static's protest as they pounded towards the bridge, knocking him aside like Family Guy was knocked from 2004's airwaves. A lot of people didn't.


	2. Easy come, easy go

_Central city_

_3:30 am_

_Rush hour_

"_What?"_

"Come on, stop dodging the question."

"_You do know this frequency is for emergencies only?"_

The Flash grinned, turning down Allen boulevard and worming around mid afternoon traffic like blood through a vein.

"Oh come on Shayera, it's a simple question."

"_Wally…I don't even know who they are."_

The grin widened, a Volkswagen was dodged.

"C'mon…Leonardo or Snake eyes?"

A sigh rustled through the com link. The red head was probably nursing a migraine now. The speedster continued to grin, waving to wide eyed twins in the back of a school bus.

"_Which one is the turtle again?" _

The laugh burst from Wally's throat, mingling with the street sounds. It died like a decades most popular from of music as a traffic light loomed into view, a big ugly iron eyesore in his path. He slowed to a jog, which in turn drooled into running in place. Damn mayor and her speed limit. But if you wanted to set an example to young drivers…

It was ridiculous though. His manoeuvrability allowed him to weave through any stream of vehicles that crawled along Central city's crowed intersections and freeways. It was preformed with an edge developed only through constant practice. Vibrating was something that should really be a concern if concentration was not applied by the bucket load, and far more dangerous. Beurocrats...

Point was, he was good at it, same way a cop got good at high speed chases. Okay, admittedly he'd also learned the sound barrier could become tissue paper to his hyper charged anatomy (how did he know that term? Damn Entertainment tonight…) and that demonstrating this in a populated area was like recycling really hot chilli in a glass house, but he avoided doing so outside city limits for that reason.

But again, motorcycles were still feared on roadways world wide for a reason. Hence the petition to have him slow at the lights.

It was ridiculous though. Especially seeing as how he had to run at roughly sixty miles an hour in place to prevent loosing the speed he'd built up. Not that he couldn't get it back, but while he was aware he could do it "in an instant", to him "an instant" was how long it took to wait for an episode of Friends to finish ,insurance commercials included.

"_What?"_

Oh right. Whisper sensitive com link on, mild under breath cursing pouring into the metro tower. At super speed. Smooth.

"Nothing. So anyway…who takes it?" The smirk returned, inevitable as a Jaws sequel.

"_Hate you hotshot." _

"Love ya, wing a ding."

"_Don't call me that. And you've got another call. They want to kill you. Or so I hear."_

"My, aren't I the popular one." The lights changed, the speedsters good mood shifting back into high gear as he did the same. "What frequency?"

"_It's an outside league transmission. Checks out with one of the reserve frequencies." _The tapping of Shayera's keyboard underlined her words, old cloak and dagger suspicion evident. Reserve member frequencies were there so the league could contact the reserves, not the other way around. And even if the broadcast source knew one of them, the message was still on an outside frequency. She was asking without asking. That, and keeping something back.

Well, if one of the reserves was playing games, Flash wanted to know where all the pieces lay.

"We got a name?"

"_Nightwing." _

The road shrieked like a horror movie victim beneath gold boots. Flash blinked behind mask lenses as a semi blared at him like a sick cow. Great. Now he was possibly deaf alongside having scuffed boots. And he'd have to build up speed "in an instant" again. The shock kept him at just about the speed limit. Good mood at first gear as good and bad memories came together. Tinged with shock.

_Dick actually picked up his reserve communicator? _

Well okay, not exactly. He probably tried to reach him on his old Titans communicator. His really old Titans communicator. The one he kept in a box in his closet. The one buried beneath his old Kid Flash outfit. The one he'd accidentally sat on in college. That communicator.

Dick hadn't even answered Wally's request to join up as part of the main available league task force, and if you knew about the Batman angle that was understandable, meaning the reserve position had been taken grudgingly. Wally had known, as he'd handed the league com link over into a black gloved hand, that it was most likely never going to be used. Not if Nightwing could avoid it. He had his plans for his own team back then.

But with the new Titans up and running , establishing a new frequency that wouldn't match the leagues own unique library wasn't impossible. With their own signal available, why consider using something Bruce Wayne had built? Still…_Dick actually picked up his reserve communicator? _

Wally thought hard in the next three seconds. This was probably nothing good. He sighed. At super speed, so Shayera probably didn't hear it. Probably.

"Patch him through. On a _private_ link."

It wasn't that Shayera didn't know of the relationship, but he and Dick hadn't spoken since Impulse had signed up for the Titans, to their eventually mutual chagrin. A lot had been left in that gap, and league space missions hadn't left that much time, even for him. He didn't need one close friend listening in on a closer one.

"_Done." _

The line changing felt like a physical thing, like his frontal lobe butting his forehead for attention. The time difference of "an instant". Damn.

"_Wally? Flash?"_

His voice sounded just like Wally remembered, the same one that told him to turn the music down and that the towers PA system was for emergences only, not cranking out the theme of Star Wars at two in the morning. Good times, good times…

Time being a big thing, Wally still smiled wider regardless.

"Wing a ding!"

"_Don't call me that, or I promise you, you will never sleep again."_

Oh yeah, Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson had _nothing _in common.

"So, this death threat for old times sake or did Mallah and Grodd find a shaving kit and decide to express themselves?"

A predicted gravel sigh scratched across his ears, super speed acceleration allowing him to enjoy every sweet second of it. He slowed it back down as the line started mooing.

"…_Wwwant an answer. You got one?" _

"What?"

Gravel through the line again, a razor blade hidden in breathing. Nightwing was getting exasperated.

" _I'm going to spell this out Wally. Why did Superman and Wonder Woman just burst into our tower and start going through Gar's underwear drawer?" _

Asphalt screamed again, pedestrians letting out startled yelps and heart felt sighs that came with the surprise of finding an honest to god superhero in front of you. He was going to have to grab a new pair of boots after this. That is, if he remembered anything after the shock Nightwing just pulled out from under the bed.

"What!"

Silence. Somewhere far off, an ice cream truck started jingling.

"You are not serious!" People were staring at him, forcing his grimace of shock to become a momentary assuring grin. One that whispered; _Nothing to see here, move along, move along, get the hell away from me, I'm having a nervous break down and its entirely possible I'll have it a match 5 …_

"_Why did two of your Justice League buddies bust into our tower? I thought we agreed you'd back off until the kids were ready, if they even wanted anything to do with you. Kory almost killed Wonder Woman, and Wonder Girl and Arrowettie may have to be moved into the medical wing after Superman caused their jaws to almost go through the floor."_

The use of "You" hurt, but was frankly expected. Grow up in Batman's house and an intense hatred, sorry, "dislike" of the superhero hierarchy grew on you like moss on a quick dried Clayface. Flash waved a hand at the still gawping pedestrians, trying to keep from breaking the sound barrier with waving and nerves.

"Clar…uh, Supes and Diana? They just crashed in on you guys?"

"_I thought we had a deal." _Dick sounded hurt. When someone like Dick Grayson sounded hurt, you got to feel how hurt. In a dark alley. Late at night. Very late.

"We did! We do! I…we…there was a conference…we said…they said, the other senior members…the league wasn't going to have anything to _do_ with you guys! Well, unless you needed help or something…"

The line was silent as a fresh corpse.

"_You saying my team can't handle themselves West?"_

"No! I…we…they…"

Flash struggled for breath. This wasn't in the superhero manual Batman and J'onn had actually taken the time to write up for the league recruits. Nobody actually remembered anything in it, because if you couldn't punch out a guy with a bomb strapped to his chest you probably should have become an accountant. And who in their right minds read a _manual _any way? Come to think of it, he still had to read his.

He tried again.

"Nightwing, what the he…" A five year old girl was looking at him "..eck…what happened. Walk me through it."

"_You? Walk?"_

A smirk. Maybe there was still a robin under the blue bird and black kevlar after all.

"Okay…light jogging."

And because this was going to be one of those long stories that is incredibly short but gets extended by a lot of questions like "What?" and more often "Why?", the fastest man alive sat down on a bench. And got surprised. Again. And indignant. And outraged. At the end of the conversation, a heroic red cowl matched its wearers skin colour.

Shining Knight nodded in Booster Gold's direction, continuing down to the lower levels of the cargo bay, converted kindly by faithful J'onn into a martin stable to house Winged Victory. Experienced blue eyes took in the scattered straw, and the more obvious broken door. Just in case he needed anything else spelled out for him a groan floated up from within the stable. The trusty stead was absent from his bedding. The half conscious technician entangled in his place wasn't really that effective a replacement. An armoured hand eased the fellow into an itching comfortable position.

"Rest good sir. Are you well?"

"Gnn ohkayyy…" The words were slurred, and training explained it was pain, not drunkenness. Hopefully meaning the poor nave was not a drunken lout who ignored conduct and duty attempting to swindle Winged Victory to some despicable auction.

"Yer horse…horses…aggh…"

"Aye?" Justin felt an itch in his palm, wishing his sword in hand. Or scabbard at least.

"Vigilante…ow…"

The knight relaxed slightly , going from sword edged panic to merely pointed arrow worry.

The Texas born gunslinger knew as much about horses as any Camelot born stable boy, enough to avoid a foolish mistake such as allowing a panicking steed with large swallow wings to trample around the cargo bay. If they were to join in the endeavour to return Winged Victory to his stall, success was within their mutual grasp.

Metal clanged in the distance, Justin's eyes narrowing.

"Wait here." A groan came in reply. Good enough.

Featureless containers of varying shapes and sizes passed by him as he moved with the silence and stealth of smoke before a fire. The important thing was not to startle the creature, hooves and a wingspan the size of an armchair were bad enough separately. Put them together and someone's neck would get broken just for starters. It would have been nice to have had this warning when he had received the horse. Blasted wizards.

While he had fought as valiantly in grimmest forest and darkest castle court, he couldn't help notice that it had gotten darker in here. Not that he was afraid. Not that it wasn't okay for men to…perhaps…feel a touch…wary. Goodness it had gotten dark in here terribly quick.

A glint of metal in shadow. He bit down on a helium squeak and scanned it like a letter opener attacked by an envelope. The squeak echoed hollowly between containers through the hand he clamped over his mouth.

Sprawled across the floor, like a blonde in an action movie, was Vigilante's bike.

The smooth metal glinted like a jungle predator's tooth, hinting at the possible horror that could have taken place when the horse had found the gunslinger and his ride.

No, the knight assured himself, it couldn't be that bad. It _was _Vigilante's bike, but it _wasn't _Vigilante's big screen TV with surround sound. Fe…_caution _weighing on his shoulders like a boulder in a catapult, he continued further into the spontaneous, if appropriate, shadows of the cargo bay.

The com link was jabbed unfairly hard. The slight poke to the ear only further irritated the Flash.

"Watchtower, one teleport from Central City to home base. _Now_."

His voice surprised him. Cheese would have been sliced wafer thin with it, that was how sharp it sounded. And even more people were looking at him. An instant passed. Two more.

The lack of light and jumping in his stomach that came with being ripped apart at molecular level surprised him. Yeah he was fast, but J'onn spent months mastering the teleport system and how to keep him away from it. He should be a wave of particles on interstellar wind right now.

The com link chirped, startling him. "J'onn?"

"_Uh…no, sir, Flash sir…uh…it's Tony? From tech division?" _

"Tony?"

"_Uh…yeah…sir…" _The line buzzed with an incomprehensible nervousness. Was J'onn _still_ locked in his room? And who was this nervous Tony guy?

_I thought all division on the watchtower was tech division. Well, we do probably need janitors. And plumbers. And whoever keeps leaving those mints under the pillows. _

_Wait a minute…_

Tony? Blonde? The teleporter inspector? The first one taken hostage when Luthor was running around in Wally's boots? The one who heard Wally's voice threaten to put Wally's fingers through his brains?

Ouch.

Awkward.

"Uh Tony. Right Tony. Tony, could you get transport for one from Central City to Watchtower? Now? Please?"

"_Uh…yes. Yes sir, Flash."_

Sometimes, the speedster reflected as the feeling of sidewalk underfoot dissolved away, it would have been better to jut take Aunt Iris's advice and become a stock broker. To the best of his knowledge, stock brokers rarely got doused in hyper charged chemicals.

Golden armour blending perfectly with the shadows, Sir Justin crept around a convenient stack of spare parts. The corridor up ahead was empty. He turned right, and peeked over a sardine container, breath held. Brining along his magic sword sounded like such a good idea right about now. What with the larger shadows up ahead and all.

A snort.

_Victory? _

Hunkering down as if preparing for trench warfare, he grasped behind him for anything to strike the varlet who had stolen his horse. Nimble fingers tightened on a handle. Blue eyes narrowed, armoured muscles coiled, and the Shining Knight lunged from the shadows like the wrath of all glorious Arthur's war chargers. He was about to call out for whatever villains awaited him to cease when he realised what he had taken for a lead pipe was in fact a barbecue spatula. This stopped the words forming in his throat, and spoiled the effect somewhat. What he saw that made him drop the it and mumble "Oh dear…" didn't improve things in the slightest.


	3. A little silhouetto

_Geocentric Earth orbit _

_Watchtower _

_3: 34 am_

Green tinted star light had always been more appealing to John Stuart than grey steel watchtower walls, though he possessed all the poetic abilities of brick hurled through Edgar Allan Poe's window. He was quite at home in a war zone, the sound of duty and whatever the enemy preferred as a projectile calling like a waiting lover. But the weight of his ring rushing through him, awash with his will power, the awareness that it was the only thing keeping him alive in the void to view the (mostly) tranquil beauty of its vastness fuelled the part of him that felt satisfied with his sector responsibilities fulfilled.

Point being, much of a veteran as he was, he enjoyed the recreation decks couch as much as every body else. Nothing like a comfy set of cushions to plant your fanny on after it was almost singed off chasing a recently escaped Sinestro. His time after debriefing was quiet, with only the outside hum of the watchtowers electronics and member gossip mingling in from the corridors, like bees outside his classroom window the day before summer vacation.

At home in both off and on duty environments, off duty meant work well done and time to prepare to get in more. There were limits though…

…like now.

"Marie!"

Sharp nails drew little goose bump patterns up, down, and across his chest, an uncomfortably rubber sound sliding off his Lantern corps emblem on contact.

"Have I ever told you how _stunning_ and _prim _green looks? And the black…like a mint…mmmm…"

This had been going on for approximately twenty minutes after his return to the Javelin bay and his log in on the bridge. The customary hug and quip had been expected, another gentle reinforcement of routine. Instead the door to the rec room had hardly been half open before she'd poured out onto him like maple syrup. Squirmy, pokey, prody, feely maple syrup.

He'd barley gotten his brain around the fact she was kissing him in a way that shouldn't have left him with the hair he hadn't shaved off, when some part of him trying not to focus on what felt like a rave in and outside his mouth found a more comfortable distraction in the fact merry hell had come to the watchtower.

Raised voices. Raised fists. Not good. Not in a facility a good thousand or so feet above the planet. Giant laser canon or not.

The Green Lantern tried to kick in. The normal man got in the way because what Vixen was trying to do had turned his sturdy legs to jelly's lazy cousin. His vocal cords weren't quite there yet and his mouth was, for the moment, free.

"Marie…" His voice sounded like someone stepping on a dog's squeaky toy. Now _there_ was an image he shouldn't be using right now.

"Mmmmmm hmmmmm?" Somehow the anthromorpher poured entire volumes of exotic journeys and suggestions of engaging in bipedal activity that the Discovery Channel was not allowed to show into two of the most mundane words ever to pass humanity's collective lips. Lantern fought fire. Decided to try again. Wildcat and Hawk were never the kind to size up an opponent, and possibly alcohol fuelled trash talk left whoever was in the same hallway with ten seconds less on the time bomb than they would have thought. Not that anyone else in the hallway was paying that much attention to them, and even less to Dove's pleas.

A tearful shine in baby blue eyes tugged at John a little. He redoubled his efforts.

"Marie…don't…I…this has to stop…"

Coco lips pouted, her upper lip alone acting like a match held up to his sweat glands.

"But I wanna play."

"Yes…" John heard himself say, then stamped on the word with his tongue, going for a forth attempt. "Yes…but…plenty of time for that…later…"

Star girl stalked passed, floor shacking in Stripe's wake as his metallic demands for her to turn down her ipod and get back here were almost drowned out by stomping of thruster boots on hard floor. Black gauntleted hands redoubled he effort to remove orange silk ones from where they were currently trying to slide.

The power ring sparked, light but sudden as an elephant exploding.

Two sets of eyes shared the same surprised tint for roughly a heartbeat, then the animal poured back into Vixen's, like a chocolate sauce puma stalking in the mating season.

"Oooh…shiny. Does it come off?"

Hawk held a low stance, giving him a good aim at Wildcat's jaw, Linkin Park spewing a tinny surreal _Nobody's listening _as Star girl's ipod jerked between daughter and stepfather. Really big mech armoured stepfather. With missiles.

"Marie, I need to talk to someone. Right now."

Some days it just didn't pay to be an ex marine. Not when mentality centred around authoritative tones getting the job done. Brown eyes were suddenly glaring into emerald empowered pupils, dark as storm clouds. Painted black. And armed with rocket launchers.

"I see." John wondered if his hand was shaking from the ring, which suddenly felt like gasoline soaked jackhammer made of coal alight on his ring finger, or the fear of God.

Which religion, he didn't know.

"It's her isn't it?" Jaguar snarling storming over words, thin eyebrows coming together like a finger and a rifle trigger. It was possible that he may have just made a mistake. The ring jumped again.

"Who?"

"Oh you know." Vixen suddenly had her face close to his own, the kind of close where foxes tore chickens apart like messy pillows. "You _know_."

Chickens. Pillows. Feathers. Wings. Oh hell…

"Marie wait!" Orange high heels clicked away like bullets dropping from a suicidal corpse. The night ahead would undoubtedly extend from awkward fumbling to stone silence. And/or shouting. Never too much shouting. Like the apartment needed another reason not to appeal. On the other hand his hand, chest and mouth were free. Meaning a counter offence against whatever was going on here could officially begin.

"Hey tall, dark and thoughtless!"

Unless the fight came to him first. Of all the forms the first punch could take though, an angry Green Arrow was a strange one. Meaning it was all the more unexpected. Would probably hurt more to. Nerves already skyscraper high, John almost threw up a ring shield when what he at first took for a gun glinted in the watchtower light. In retrospect it might have been the smart thing to do.

"What's this huh? Huh!" An emerald gloved hand shoved the apparent weapon forward.

Brains went numb in the face of the latest insaner than usual thing to happen all day. The Green Lantern of sector 2814, witness to (practically) all things strange and terrible Neil Armstrong had missed out on, stared in complete stupefaction. It was becoming a habit. Like J'onn locking himself in his room while the watchtower went nuts. Or Clark humming _Chattanooga choo choo _when he felt uncomfortable in a situation. Like discussing repairing shower heads in the women's locker rooms. And not realising he was doing it.

Recognition dawned. "It's…a soda can?"

"_Yes!_" The archer thundered the word with maniacal triumph. Green eyes were wide behind a green mask. "The soda can you _carelessly tossed _on the hanger floor when you got back from enforcing the word of the little blue gnomes with the Red Rangers fashion sense, like you were going to the bathroom! Bad enough you imperialist storm troopers frog march around the planet like you just high jacked it, ignoring the dirt bag exploitation it so it becomes the money making husk you want to fill your damn wallets with, but your dumping in space now? Spreading your trash through the final frontier? Bet ya didn't even clean your hands when you tossed this thing on the floor! God knows what's on this can! This is an isolated environment! You trying to kill us all with your space germs? You trying to give me space cancer, you green space nazi?" Blond beard hair glistened with spittle.

Brain still stiff as if wrapped tightly in cotton for 24 hours, John considered the fact that, despite the shared first words in their code names, Ollie's costume was predominantly more green than his was. Different shade to. And Ollie had far more facial hair, probably grown in a lab somewhere so it could be styled into full Robin Hood elegance. Many an early morning in the Lantern's apartment had been spent staring at what looked like dishevelled hedgehog/ hedge maze offspring in the bathroom mirror.

Ex marine. Dedicated liberal.

Different as two green peas in a black and white striped pod. But the Lantern knew enough.

The archer was "in your face". But not "punch you in the face". Not even over a soda can.

The logical thing to do would be to defuse the situation. He'd done it to enough bombs, before and with the ring. Pry open the outer layer of the situation, look at the mechanics of the problem, and get rid of the most dangerous parts, thus stopping that annoying beeping sound and allowing everyone to think clearer. For starters, apologise to Ollie. Everyone knew he had a strong social conscience and respect for the balance of nature. It was understandable how he'd feel strongly, and frankly overreact to something like carelessly disposing of a soda can. His respect for the environment and the social needs of his fellow man was the reason everyone looked past his Casanova nature and saw the peoples hero hidden in smug womanising green disguise.

Well, with the exception of Wally and Booster Gold, who had started with a ego boosting rivalry, and moved onto begging for date advice from there.

Apologising then explaining the situation would allow them to continue operating on the watchtower as if it never happened, just like teleporting him up here for the recruitment drive without asking.

On the other hand, the day Jonathan Alistair Stewart was talked down to by a namby pamby bleeding heart leprechaun liberal was the day the dark lord Hades started up a snowplough before setting out to work.

"Listen to me you pixie green pretty boy, I just got back from saving a planet that looked like Pluto and smelled like Uranus to find the most responsible unit of men outside of the United States army acting like a college fraternity! I'm not going to waste time with someone obsessed with returning this planet to the dark ages because they see the democratic process good, clean, honest hard working men have died for as being too harsh! Join the army instead of loading up on hemp from the company yacht, and you'll see what made this country great!"

Walls glowed angry emerald, ring hand shaking in the aftermath of the power eruption as if dipped in artic water during a spasm. John's head might as well have been. Teeth bared, fingers jerked, eyes shut like folded bat wings. The ring just discharged, overtime. But it felt …protective? Behind them, he heard Wildcat, maybe Hawk, swear.

And that's when the leprechaun liberal made his move.

"Oh dear."

Sir Justin's voice came back hollow, bouncing off cargo bay walls. The reins in his hands jerked again, and his fingers tightened uncomfortably. Hands pawed at air, a red bandana dancing with snorting breath. He almost choked on his heart at a powerful rustle behind him. He spun, knocking a ten gallon hat from a dark haired head. A wobbling hoof trod on it. Round black eyes looked apologetic, tinged miserably. The unsteady wing folded back into place, sliding unsurely next to shoulder muscles flexing like disturbed tectonic plates.

Sir Justin sighed. The journey back up to the main decks would be more difficult than initially thought. He attempted to rally the situation as best he could. The hat was gently

prided from beneath the hoof, half heartedly placed upon the horses head. It slid off like Himalayan mountain snow after noisy tourists. Misery gleamed irritably in black eyes.

A sympathetic sigh from the weary knight. It was almost drowned out by the snorting of the previous owner, who was attempting to eat the hat.

Much more difficult than initially thought.

He didn't know what he was going to do if someone asked why the horse wasn't the one in the rains.

"Oh dear…"

_Washington DC_

_Justice League metro tower _

_Communications room_

_8:30 am_

"Watchtower?"

Nothing.

"Watchtower, come in."

_Gods above. _Shayera Hol pressed the com button for the third time. _First, our mission director vanishes supposedly into his room for a week and a half, and now communications are going to hell? _

She never had liked the watchtower. Soaring free and unencumbered through open sky, mace in hand, wind on muscle and heart, above gravity enslaved ground and masses was one thing. Floating above planets was another. Especially in a tripped out sardine can with Batman's slave driver monitor duty rotation.

That damn migraine The Flash had handed out over the line wasn't helping right now.

"Watchtower? If someone doesn't pick up this line right now, I am going to set a Javelin to self destruct and auto pilot it up there. Now for the last damn time, come in!"

She ignored Fire's gasp and Black Canary's raised eye brow, counting down the seconds before striding off to the Javelin bay. Meaningless random buttons flashed. Then speakers crackled.

"_Uh…metro tower?" _

_Finally. _"Affirmative watchtower. We're behind on our operations update. What's going on up there?"

"_Uh…a lot metro tower…" _

Red hawk brows came together like electrical impulses forming thunder. "Define a lot."

_Watchtower _

_Central operation centre_

_AKA The bridge_

_AKA The hub_

_AKA The hall of justice_

_3:38am_

Molecules sparked against each other ,unearthly blue twisting into tangible form within camera bright white.

"…been so embarrassed." Diana nursed the middle of her nose, shifting her tiara unnecessarily with nervous hands. Superman's lower lip would be numb from long nervous biting. His uniform smelt faintly of Titans Tower, warm casualness out of place in cold steel, distant stars and meta human working relationships. It wasn't the glare Nightwing had levelled with Deadshot precision and venom that nagged at him; work with Batman and it you got used to that. Well, you didn't, but you knew _the glare _when you saw it and it was easier to take from behind a sharpened domino mask than a Wayne enterprises skin thin armoured cowl. More like a spear through the shoulder than a bullet to the chest but never the less…

The faint look of indignant betrayal behind the glaring mask wasn't that of a childish Robin, but that of a man who had long since outgrown his shadow made mentor and moved on, distancing himself from the cold professionalism in search of the warmer world of a family. Symbols of justice jumping over the gun and into his oddly T shaped home reminded him of the level that came between himself and his mentor, baring Batman from that family to empty days as Bruce Wayne and cold nights in the bat cave. It had hurt. And ticked him off.

Not a smart thing to do with a bat protégé. A Robin may be at groin height, but it could still drop you. As the Gotham underground saying was rumoured to go.

He made a decision. "Diana…we _can not _tell Wally. Ever"

The Amazon looked up from mid migraine/ possible brain tumour tending. That eyebrow ,that Clark was now burning with a sun intense longing to shave off, went up like one of Edward Nigma's Polaris missiles.

"The man of tomorrow lies?"

"Keeps secrets. There's a difference." Grow up with the ability to see into the girls locker room and you learnt that difference pretty quickly.

"Bruce tell you that?"

She was teasing him. Defence mechanisms brought out back in Jonn's quarters flared. "You sound like Nightwing."

Diana bristled. Took a breath. "You've got a point."

More of a mumble than actually saying anything, but an admission all the same. You quickly learnt not to look an Amazonian gift horse in the mouth. It might bite.

"He'd go crazy. Insane. Arkham insane."

Clark nodded. His gaze shifted to the humming teleporter control pad, somehow failing to take in the sudden shift in the watchtowers bee hive activity. Captain Atom marched past going "Hut! Hut! Hut!" without a single blink. That was how hard he was focusing on the computer.

"You…still know how to edit teleport logs? I known he probably wouldn't know how to check but he was a mechanic before signing up for Central PD's forensics lab…"

A horrified look. "I…I don't know…"

Clark was getting nervous. And curt. "Diana, every one _knows_, ok? Doesn't matter how everybody knows you and Aquaman made an unscheduled trip to the Caribbean, and you wiped it from the logs ok? Doesn't matter how it happened. It just did. The point is _you_ did go, and _you_ know how to remove any evidence that _we_ just knocked down Wally's old team mates doors looking for the last surviving Martian in a fit of Batman styled paranoia."

Still flushed, the princess had to give the reporter his due. "You've thought this through."

"Yeah. You have."

Super strong bodies turned statue stiff. A gold booted foot taped off metal floor. A slight vibration haze wavered around it.

"Anything to say?" A tone that could slam shut over a coffin, arms crossed like waiting guns, red cowl eyes knife blade narrow…you knew you were in trouble when the Flash looked like Batman. Wonder woman rubbed her hands nervously. Superman licked canyon dry lips. The first few bars of _Chattanooga choo choo _mingled softly with gentle computer humming. Then a snort.

"Err…many pardons but…"

The three of them turned slowly. Shining Knight felt like he just started a staring contest with six suns. Six very surprised suns. Flash's arms went limp at his side, his jaw merely needing to clang to the floor to complete the effect. Superman blinked.

"Justin…what…why…"

He'd heard the rumours about Vigilante and Shining knight, every one on the watchtower

had, like catching a disease…but he simply hadn't believed…not that there was anything _wrong_ with…

"Dude…" Wally's eyes were almost breaking through his cowl. "What the _hell_!"

"I found them in the cargo bay." Justin gave a wretched look. Vigilante's body , reins tied around waist and neck, continued trying to eat it's hat, and Winged Victory's hooves left minute scratches on the watchtower floor as they slid out from under it.

Flash took a nervous step. Another. Looked right into the horse's eyes.

"Vige?"

A snort.

Uh…" A nervous scratch of the head, blurred at super speed. "…uh… huh…uh…"

Wally decided to bite the bullet rather than continuing dancing in front of the barrel.

"Once for yes…twice for…" There was a hopeless shrug. "…no?"

Muscles tensed for a moment, along with thick air. The sound of tight craning neck muscle almost drowned out the surrounding watchtower buzz.

Then, a click of hoof on metal. Once.

"Oh my _God_…" Justin lowered miserable eyes to the floor as the speedster fought the urge to throw up.

He sighed, turning reluctantly. "Superman?"

There was a pounding in Kryptonian ears. _I can't take this. I'm going to have a panic attack. _

Dian's hand shook as she rubbed them against each other. "Okay…" she swallowed, eyes darting around, not really taking in the out of character chaos dancing around her head. "Okay, lets get them to the med bay. We can get Atom, or Dr Fate, or J'onn and…"

The stop was sudden. Then she shook her head. "No."

Clark's shoulders shook in silent desperation. "What?"

_Panic attack! Panic attack!_

Elegant hands rubbed each other. "Just…"

"Hey, look out!" The stretcher knifed through the chaotic bridge, warring eyes following it.

"John!" Air blurred red, Wally materializing next to the jogging technicians like a lawyer next to a car crash. "What happened? Is he hurt? Who did this? One of his rouges?" A thoughtful pause, the next question cutting through the attempted reply. "Does he _have_ a rouges gallery? I mean, outside of Sinestro? And that guy, watshisface,…name like a town in Saudi Arabia, looks like a bug on a windshield …" 

Clark's eyes were shut one size fits all tight, breathing deep as a coke addict.

_Calm…calm…1...2..._

"Um…" The blonde technician was nervous, looking art Flash the same way he would an A bomb. "Um, well, he got punched…r…right in the, uh, face… and…and…well, he may just, uh…need to lie down…uh…and well…"

He told them what happened.

Clark's eyes snapped open.

_PANIC ATTACK!_

_Metro tower _

_8: 53 am _

"What?"

"_Superman, appears to ,uh…" _The speakers crackled in front of the Thanagarian, the speaker choosing his words _very _carefully. And giving up.

"…_a panic attack. He's just sitting in the commissary, with lots of paper bags…"_

"Right…and before that?"

Shayera's griping finger nails almost tore through the consoles keyboard.

"_The…the part with Green Lantern?" _

"Yes!" It was like Krypton exploding. Again. Grey wings were wide, straight and still as snarling alsations. "The part with Green Lantern! what did you say happened to Green Lantern!"

"_Gre…uh…Green Arrow…decked him…" _

The swivel chair squealed like a crushed mouse, rocking at the sudden weight of the former Thanagarian law officer.

She bit her lip, made a decision, reached for the specific communicator signal.

_Gotham city_

_Under Wayne manor _

_8: 57 am_

"Your cowl sir."

Bruce Wayne nodded at the impassive face of Alfred Pennyworth, steel blue eyes vanishing beneath the narrow burning nightmare scowl of the mask lenses.

"Robin's resting up?"

The butler nodded. "Master Timothy is upstairs and shall be available, should you need him, after he has finished his homework." Mouth flicked moustache upwards in a smile. "Given sufficient encouragement."

A grunt.

Bullet proof canopy slid back noiselessly with scalpel precision, living shadow pouring into a cockpit that would make an air force mechanic greener than The Incredible Hulk. A low jungle predator growl glided out of warming engines. Soulless eyes made one final scan, black gloved hand tightening on a waiting lever.

Batteries to power.

Turbines to speed.

Moonlight sliding off stealth camouflaged metal, the bat mobile fired out of the depths of the cave, aiming like a sniper's bullet at distant Gotham lights. Manoeuvring along the by now familiar highway, Batman brought up League options on the dashboard computer. J'onn was still locked inside the watchtower for reasons that would become clear with perseverance. No change in the security logs to indicate anything different. Yet.

An anomaly in the watchtower communications read outs received a curious glance; they weren't there. Metro tower was still fully operational, right down to the air purifier in the washrooms, yet watchtower communications were offline. A quick scroll through records from minutes ago revealed a disorganised pattern of member log ins, log outs, computer access, system reboots and teleporter delays. Which shouldn't be happening. This was an amalgam of Wayne enterprises, Kryptonian, Thanagarian, Martian and Rannian technology, not Microsoft.

Something beeped. A glove finger taped it.

"Make it quick Shayera."

To her credit, she didn't gasp or ask how he did that.

"_You do **know** what's going on up there, don't you?"_

"I've been busy."

"_Joker or Riddler?" _

Two face actually, but he ignored that.

"I just checked the watchtower logs. Strange."

"_That's it?" _

"I've been busy."

The journey continued in barley audible engine humming for several minutes.

Shayera's sigh was a mixture of weariness and frustration, probably from spending long nights trying to operate under the current watchtower conditions. Also, possibly a migraine. From the Flash.

"_Alright…J'onn's been locked up there for a while…"_

"Ten days." A detective always got the facts straight. She should know that.

"…_thank you. Well, you'd assume that was as weird as it would get…" _

He never assumed anything. _Ever_.

"…_but now I'm getting reports that half the leaguers up there have gone Arkham on everyone, Green Arrow decked John, the last son of Krypton is having a panic attack, and Vigilante and that horse faced feather duster Shining Knight rides around on switched places." _

He raised an eye brow under the cowl. He'd heard the rumours, but he'd assessed them as merely close friends during the few missions he'd been in their company.

"_Not that way." _

Ah.

"_I'm going up there. You coming? You did build the place after all." _

"I've been after Dent for too long to just pull out now. Call me if something blows up. And be careful." A malfunction could move half of a users arms, legs and wings just as easily

as it could teleport their entire being from one point to another.

"_Understo…"_

A sharp glare at the speakers, more abrupt than the sudden end of the conversation.

The bat mobile's communications consol turned the darkness of the cockpit scarlet. A League priority override. The buzzing that accompanied it made him regret installing it in there.

_What now?_

The buzzing stopped. The lights stopped. No sound but the purr of the Wayne enterprises engine. Then he heard it.

"_Is this the real life?  
Is this just fantasy?  
Caught in a landslide,  
No escape from reality.  
Open your eyes, Look up to the skies and see…"_

He blinked.

"_I'm just a poor boy, I need no sympathy,  
Because I'm easy come, easy go, Little high, little low,  
Any way the wind blows doesn't really matter to me, to me…"_

He shut the speakers off, turning towards the warehouse district and the shed that contained his emergency teleporter. Shayera wasn't going up there alone.

Two disarming a bomb was always better than one.


	4. Open your eyes

There were stars. Then there was the light, the smell of anaesthetic and plastic. The thought of cookies. Delicious minty, chocolaty cookies.

Then he realised the light hurt.

Uncomfortable sheets rustling, John Stuart sat bolt upright, the sudden throbbing across his face making him regret it. Further regret set in when the surroundings of the med bay swam further into focus around him. Almost as notorious as monitor duty, being bedridden aboard the watchtower settled on a dust ridden rung below every restroom being occupied except the one on level 5 and a bladder half full of watchtower coffee whispering to you.

Speaking of which…

After making it to the bathroom, having to sit down as his legs shook like water out a tap, he closed his eyes. Pressure drained away along with the noise of said release. He sighed, in relief and disbelief. Ollie couldn't have actually _done_ it…

Damn environmentalist liberal arrow shooting piece of…

Everything soar sparked as the ring shook. He held it up to his face, still charged eyes scanning it curiously. Out in the corridor…he'd felt it, not just physically. And again, when he was getting aggressive, it discharged a startling amount of power not from his own will. Not his own…but perhaps the Guardian's.

Sinestro aside, the Guardians of the universe hadn't overlooked the possibility of a Lantern turning on them, more through the manipulation of another than deciding to randomly try conquering their sector. Certain life forms had possessed natural and unnatural abilities to brainwash people since before brainwash was a word. Sod's law being what it was, most of these life forms were aggressive, mostly towards other life forms, and would brainwash other life forms to beat those life forms to death with an in inanimate object. And sometimes other life forms.

Thus the Guardians, with that suspicious logic they always kept under their robes, had designed safety protocols into the ring, like ones against the ring bearers mind being too easily overthrown. Nothing stopping a mind channelling through it, that would be stupid when the thing ran on willpower, but the possibility of not beating another life form to death because another life form wanted you to was stronger than even a Jordan level will might be. Something as spasmodic as what the ring had been doing recently was possibly his subconscious realising something was wrong and kicking him for attention. Deep down he must be a really winy kid.

If the attempt for control was too strong and too sudden, the safety feature might as well not be there (like that damn snake stone that had possessed them all, leaving the fate of Earth and the sun in the acting before thinking hands of Wally, the thought of which still kept him up some nights) but it was possible to work around it with a little subtlety. Grodd was the best example, back when he'd made the seven of them as twitchy as Wally and (_almost_) as paranoid as Batman.

Everyone on the watchtower was at each others throats, groins and jaws, acting as the gossip mongers for the national scandal rags implied they did. Similar to some of the more subtle situations he'd seen over the years.

The room was still for several seconds. The Lantern meant to make up his mind on how to tackle whatever was at the end of this insanity. He was sidetracked by a number of realisations.

The first one was that he didn't actually have a plan to get to the end of this insanity, not even one to start looking up maps to find out where the start of the insanity was. Another was that this might be because whoever was behind all this didn't want him to. Another was that he didn't really know if whoever was behind this had psi powers. Another was that that was probably what whoever was behind this _wanted_ him to think. Another was that whoever was behind this might know that he knew whoever was behind this was behind this. Another was that that last part made absolutely no sense, which seemed to be the order of the day. And that that might be because whoever was behind this…stop that!

Another was that the toilet seat was ungodly cold. A small yelp was absorbed by the sterile walls. Or what was dully pounding through them.

"…_I see a little silhouetto of a man,  
Scaramouche, Scaramouche, will you do the Fandango?  
Thunderbolt and lightning, very, very fright'ning me…_

The final realisation hit him harder than Ollie had, but was not as painful.

"Queen?"

After going through all necessary motions (Mom would knock him into next week if she ever knew he hadn't washed his hands), he rammed a lemon scented hands against the release panel. A mass of nightmare black thundered past, and he almost blew up the entire hallway with a ring blast before he saw the cowl horns.

Blank eyes cast a thunder clap fast glance back at him, stalking towards Captain Atom.

"Which of you undisciplined maggots has the brain damage to take me on?! This has gone on for too long, and this league will _not _tolerate_ any_ _more_ _in_…_subor_…_dina_…_tion_!"

Even on his worst day Nathaniel Adam never sounded like that. That wasn't a drill sergeant, that was…insane. Whoever was behind this must be having a field day with him. Not that John wanted to go down that path of madness now he had his conscious feet back on sane ground. He hated to do it to the nuclear man, but the music was bad enough.

"Well?! I'm waiting ladies!"

Adam spun in a blur of silver, the hallway warm with energy build up in his hands. And looked directly into Batman's eyes. Who's hands were hidden by the solid shadow of his cape.

The glow died, the hands dropping instantly.

"I…uh…"

The eyes stayed locked on target, the Captain's own glued to the floor. Someone snickered, and paid the price when _the look _exploded onto the crowd.

Swept. All. Around. The room.

The effect of about fifty people shutting up would have been spoiled by the cheery wailing of the music over the PA. But this was The Goddamn Batman.

"Damn." someone muttered behind John's shoulder.

"Yeah."

The Lantern nodded at Metamorpho.

"You okay, Rex?"

A purple protoplasmic hand waved airily.

"Kinda. The angel of death sweeping past ya is like a bucketful of Niagara falls water."

He paused.

"In Antarctica."

He thought some more.

"During winter."

Angel of death. That was a new one. Not that Bruce would complain.

The hallway was clearing like dust sweeping away from an atomic explosion. Batman looked at those foolish enough to straggle, gave the Lantern a jerk of the head that was part nod and part instruction to follow, and swept towards the elevator like the wrath of God.

---

_Too late, my time has come,  
Sends shivers down my spine, body's aching all the time.  
Goodbye, ev'rybody, I've got to go,  
Gotta leave you all behind and face the truth…  
_

Ice rained onto metal floor. Clark stared at his shacking hand before reaching for the next bag. He was half aware of the music, the chill of brown paper becoming a heaving icicle in his hands. The dispenser next to him was almost empty. The downside of artic breath: no one had bothered to invent paper bags that could resist it. Yet. There was always Wayne Enterprises. Or at least Kord Industries.

_He's just a poor boy from a poor family,  
Spare him his life from this monstrosity.  
Easy come, easy go, will you let me go.  
Bismillah! No, we will not let you go.  
(Let him go!) Bismillah! We will not let you go.  
(Let him go!) Bismillah! We will not let you go.  
(Let me go.) Will not let you go…_

He went back to hyperventilating. The small ice pile at his feet was already melting. He could _really_ use a cup of coffee right now.

"Kal?"

He spun startled, half frozen bag still over his mouth. Grey wings flexed suddenly, the Thanagarian equivalent of a gasp when they didn't want one to show. Shayera Hol had been surprised enough to gasp only a handful of times that Clark could remember.

The first was when they were gassed during the Imperium invasion. The second was when she had wandered into the showers onboard the original watchtower to wash off the smell of disintegrated demon, and found Wally singing "I'm a little tea pot" while putting on his suit.

The rest were those generic group gasp moments, but Bruce and J'onn had deciphered the different ways the limbs would stretch or retract when an arm or a leg wouldn't. He wasn't an expert at Thanagarian body language (if that applied to gigantic hawk wings, which, given her former codename, it probably did) but he knew the difference between when she was surprised and when she was turned on.

Not that he knew what she looked like when she was turned on. Not that it wouldn't be obvious when she was turned on. Not that it was any of his business…

Fresh ice hardened the bag edges a little more as red tinted Kryptonian cheeks bulged slightly. Another feathered flex. The surprise was understandable. Men of steel did not often reduce brown paper bags to brown paper bagcicles. Nor have panic attacks.

He lowered the bag.

"Hello…"

The word withered in the watchtower air, a raw chill in the back of his throat. Probably all that freeze breath exhortation. He shouldn't do that much ever again, his throat felt like some one had tried to carve something rude into the back of it with a blade dipped in liquid nitrogen. He frowned at the croak, swallowed and tried again.

"Hello Shayera."

"What the hell is happening here?"

She reached out for the frost encrusted edge of the bag, still over his mouth, mace dangling off her wrist by the leather cord at the hilt. Which meant she'd seen the insanity all around the watchtower to match the lyrics booming throughout it and wasn't taking any chances.

He tried to warn her through the comet ice that was his throat. Too late. She winced, frozen paper cracking beneath her finger tips like some irreplaceable museum artefact. Wouldn't be the first time that had happened.

Clark swallowed again. He wanted to look at the speakers in the corners of the rooms with a nice intense touch of heat vision, but felt as drained as if the Parasite had decided he'd once again like some Kryptonian for dinner.

Shayera's hand was suddenly around his, and he realised he'd been going for another bag. She technically couldn't have stopped him, but it was the thought that counted.

Her eyes were on him, the familiar blade sharp glare doing more incinerating than heat vision would ever dream of. The Omega beams even.

"What the hell is going on here? Is half of what I heard after we got contact back true? Where's Diana? Where's Wally?"

He fought the urge to laugh. Just because he was invulnerable didn't mean she couldn't kill him, and his throat was sore enough as it was.

"I…haven't really been…paying that much attention…"

"What?"

"Said…I…"

He shook his head, sat down suddenly, head in hands. Ears that could hear suns burn out heard the metallic sliding of her mace as she readied it.

"Kal…Clark…I'm going to ask one more time."

One more. She really was being surprisingly generous. Maybe whatever was going on with the watchtower was getting to her.

He settled for "Going nuts…", it was just too much to let out at once.

"I noticed."

"It's…it's been difficult…"

"I'll say!"

The voice almost had Shayera hurling the mace on full charge behind her. It was sharp enough to cut clean through a batarang, and it _couldn__'__t_ belong to Wally. The scarlet creature storming through the commissary entrance _had_ to be Faust using a shape shifting spell, or a robot, a clone, another extra dimensional visitor or, hell, even Luthor again. The Flash did not stalk.

"Where the hell is John? I just got back from the med bay and zip, zilch, nada!"

"I don't…" Clark began, and she almost felt the urge to get between them like a mother war bound protecting a fledgling from an ravenous snare beast.

"Ohhhhhohoho no, buddy! I don't think so! You jump the Titans, you'll jump anybody!"

He hesitated, then blinked at her.

"Oh, hey Shayera! Long time no see! We hardly actually see each other anymore!"

The change was instantaneous. She almost lost half her feathers in shock. Diana scowled at her.

"Oh, stop bothering Clark and point the finger at someone who deserves it."

What could only be called a wave of a familiar ice cold hopelessness crashed down on the Thanagarian. Her hands dropped at the same time as her mouth. And then tightened around her mace.

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"What do _you_ think?"

Wally was suddenly between them.

"Ladies, please. I know I'm hot, but--"

_Mama, ooh, didn't mean to make you cry,  
If I'm not back again this time tomorrow,  
Carry on, carry on as if nothing really matters…_

"Enough."

Five heads swung around to the bat emblem because it was easier than looking at his eyes. Or bleeding nostrils.

"Even with Queen and Kord Industries backing me up, this satellite still cost Wayne Tech over a million. So you'll understand if the last thing I want even less than over thirty per cent of the metahuman population making idiots out of themselves on it, is another Static house party."

"It's not obvious?"

A black gloved hand swept across the room, stopping on Clark.

"You're the most human of us, so while I appreciate we're not getting a god complex the size of Jupiter, getting the caricature everyone assumes you use as a reason to hide among all the apes dosen't help."

Shayera.

"You've proven yourself a million times over, and that was your first week back in the League. We know there's more to you than the warrior and the traitor. Act like it."

Diana.

"You've come a long way from the island. Leave the bad habits you've picked up along the way behind."

John.

"You're a hero, not just a soldier and you're human above all else. You can put aside any and all fear to save stars and close black holes, but the second you stop worrying about the little things is when you should really be afraid. Because if your not afraid of them you won't be able to _try _and fix them with or without the interstellar jewellery."

Wally.

"You're more easily distracted than any creature on the face of the earth but you've been at this since you were thirteen, so you know what you're doing and if you're attention span was really that short you'd never have made it to fourteen."

He didn't even dignify the commotion outside with a glance.

"Hawk, Wildcat, Orion, Oliver, and every other hotheads out there start more than they finish, but more often than not that's because they care too much about whatever they're fighting over. If every woman on this team flirted or threatened as much as they are now, they would not be on this team. The world almost always has this single view of a single impression of a single person's personality, and in an age where the internet is read more than any book on the planet it's almost always wrong. Nearly none existent. Unless someone or something had the capabilities to exaggerate that aspect of their personalities. Our personalities. All of us."

Starlight reflected off Batman's lenses as he levelled them at the group like a shotgun.

"We're being played."

Shayera glanced out at the general insanity of the hallway.

"When did you figure that out?"

"Right around the time this started. It's taking a lot of effort to keep my mind in lock down against someone this good. If not for my training in Nanda Parbat I'd be a twitching paranoid schizophrenic snapping at everything in sight."

Wally seemed to be trying to make a face without actually making a face, deciding against it as Batman's narrowed eyes fell on him.

"The first person to crack a joke gets three months of double monitor duty. Come on."

He turned back around when no one followed him. His eyes did the impossible, and got even more narrow.

"I'm getting to the bottom of this. Give me one good reason not to stamp this out now."

"The bag…" Clack offered weakly.

Batman turned to look at him with the inevitable slowness of a tidal wave at the top of the fall.

"It's cold and hard…" Clark offered sheepishly.

Batman seized the ice cold paper, snapped his hand shut with a sound like a china shop in the middle of a localized earthquake and let the remains sprinkle out from between his fingers before whirling around in a spray of fresh blood and trailing cape, a startled Green Lantern almost throwing himself out through the door.

"J'onn! Get out here! Now!"

Exactly five minutes of absolute nothing passed.

"Fine."

The hunched and horned darkness stalked out into the hallway, five stupefied heroes trailing after it like rainbow coloured flares from a comet tail. Various scenes of insanity went by, halted instantly under the silent flame thrower of Batman's glare. There followed a tense elevator ride, everyone except Wally absolutely still around the titanic jet black rock that was Batman. The fastest man alive kept looking left and right at super speed, like a red and yellow hummingbird.

_No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no.  
(Oh, mama mia, mama mia.) Mama mia, let me go.  
Beelzebub has a devil put aside for me, for me, for me… _

Batman glanced over his shoulder and that was the end of that. Then his arm stabbed out and the elevator glided to a halt. The distorted image of a haggard looking Justin, Victory and Vigilante's reins tangled around both arms, became less distorted as the glass doors slid apart, although no less haggard. He whirled around to face Batman's eyes, and then his nostrils, then followed the jabbing thumb.

"In."

The rest of the compact ride wasn't any easier. For one thing the smell was trying to be horrendous when it was simply sterile, which created quite the wrong impression. The lower they went, the more Clark flinched. It was oddly embarrassing, like breaking wind, so much so that Shayera and John spent several seconds playing an eternity long game of eye contact ping pong before the Lantern caved.

"What is it?"

Clark flinched again, but it was a delayed far off reaction.

"Neurons buzzing…everyone's brainwaves are twisting. Like fish."

"Cosmic." Wally mumbled, then almost sucked his lips into the back of his throat when Batman gave him a half look over his shoulder. The elevator doors fled in the dark knight's wake as he stepped out onto the residents level, followed by the sound of awkward hoof beats, passing door after door after door, until…

"Here?" Diana's shoulders squared as if waiting for some invisible attack.

_Oh, baby, can't do this to me, baby,  
Just gotta get out, just gotta get right outta here… _

"But we already checked J'onn's room, right Clark?"

The kryptonian was staring.

"It's like a black hole of white noise…"

Batman strode into the room, looked around…

…and flung open the closet.

At first they thought it must be a matter of perspective, standing at the back of the room like this, in the shadows. But it was exactly what they were seeing in simulated watchtower light. And that made it worse. J'onn J'onzz, fully Martian but greyish green, wrinkled and unbearably thin, hunched in the corner of his closet, looked up.

"…hello…"

It was hardly a whisper.

John stepped forward gingerly, the warm glow of the ring stretching out.

"Easy buddy…"

J'onn's head sagged in a way that may have been a nod, the amber eyes creasing shut. The Lantern backed up a little, floating the Martian half an inch off the ground and began the gentle glide that would carry them both to the med bay. Five figures were left standing there in the dark, unavoidably aware of everything about the people around them, an alcohol sizzling evaporating away between their cerebellum practically without them noticing. And then the lyrics washed over them and they were hyper aware of the dark and near medicinal sterility. Shayera's wings relaxed.

"Someone better prep the med techs."

A wave of profanities native to every state crashed down on the corridor so loudly the metal shook.

"Looks like ersatz horse and hero are back to normal…" Clark rubbed a strand of cape between thumb and forefinger. Diana resisted the urge to slap his hand and settled for shaking her head.

"What could make him do something like that? To us…to himself?"

"I don't know."

Amazon and Kryptonian exchanged a look. Was Batman…swaying?

"But we _will_ be talking about this."

He stood up from the closet without turning around.

"One more thing…"

Wally, not actually for the first time, caught on faster than everybody else, a non existent thunder clap flicking in his wake. The music droned to a halt.

"Good. Now if you'll excuse me, I barely have enough blood left in my body to fill a champagne bottle."

And with that Batman got onto J'onn's bed in an as business like manner as possible, lay down, and passed out.


End file.
